A Deadly Deathly Death by Jenga™

Bangus Meat Loaf Impersonator Shot Nine Times in Face! Police Treating as Accident! Family demands justice! Public Remains Indifferent!

BANGUS COUNTY—Spruce "Meat" McKinlay Jr. is in Bangus General Hospital where he remains in critical condition after being shot nine times in the face with a 22. calibre rifle. McKinlay, a local agitator, is no stranger to the local constabulary and sources within the Bangus County Mountain Cops Detachment confirmed to Bangus Online that McKinlay Jr. has a lengthy record having been arrested in the past for distilling corn liquor, impregnating countless cougars, eating fire without the proper permits, and shaking down school kids for their lunch money. Last Saturday, police were called when snoopy neighbours heard shots fired from the mountains where McKinlay had organized an illicit high-stakes of Jenga™ “the blockbuster of all stacking games”.

When reached for comment, McKinlay had no comment as he was busy getting buried. The police have closed the case citing gross incompetence.

Bangus Book Blip - A Farewell to Hemingway's Arms

Ernie still with his head on

Yeah. I read this while flying. I hate flying. I get sick from being stuck in a metal tube and then being shot through the sky. It’s expensive and you’re treated like shit. I forgot to bring a book for the direct flight from Toronto to Phoenix. I couldn’t find anything to read in the bookstores at Pearson International, so I stocked up on different newspapers and three magazines. I went to the john before boarding and lo and behold, a tattered copy of Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. I've always liked Hemingway without ever reading anything he ever wrote. I like the ‘idea’ of Hemingway. His name conjures up visions of the tropics, self loathing and psychosis.

On the plane I sat beside a guy who talked quietly to himself. I think he was slowly becoming unglued but as long as he talked to himself and not to me I was fine.

Published in 1929, A Farewell to Arms tells about a young American in the Italian Army during the big WWI. Lieutenant Frederic Henry. He’s an ambulance driver. Everyone drinks wine and speaks in short sentences. Henry gets his knee blown off in a friendly fire thing by some jittery Italians.While in hospital he impregnates a British nurse. He has a grand time convalescing. Then he goes back to the front but he’s not crazy about mud, blood and gore so he bails on the whole thing and meets up with the nurse and they have more grand times playing billiards and drinking wine and talking about wine while drinking brandy and talking about wine and playing billiards and so forth. Someone tips him off that he’s about to be arrested as a deserter so he rows across to Switzerland with his pregnant nurse girlfriend in a leaking rowboat. Apparently, the Swiss don’t give a shit about deserters.

Here’s a fanciful exchange:
“Has he the
syphilis?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m glad you haven’t. Did you ever have anything like that?”
“I had gonorrhea.”
“I don’t want to hear about it. Was it very painful, darling?”
“Very.”
“I wish I’d had it.”

Oh yes, I almost forgot, she dies while giving birth as does the baby. While I sit on the tarmac with the engines running and that guy speaking to himself, this is how the book starts:

In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains.

Here’s how it ends: But after I had got them out and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn’t any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

Hermit Crabs, Herbal Supplements, Uncle Wallace and his Leaking Wikis

“The phone’s tapped anyway, Maggie says that many say
they must bust in early May, orders from the DA.” – Bob Dylan

“They call it "The Earth" which is a dumb kinda name
but they named it right 'cause we behave the same.” – Frank Zappa

“I shall not lie” – the Egyptian Book of the Dead recently
unearthed after a might wind blew apart Crab Town, NY

Okay, enough bullshit. There's no time for it. Have you ever told a whopper of a lie? Not a white lie like telling someone they looked awesome when in fact, they have become quite gaunt from living on nothing but nuts and herbal supplements for the past sixteen months. Or maybe telling someone that you like guacamole in a room of guacamole freaks to avoid becoming the marginal man/ woman. I’ve told a million white lies to selfishly make my life a little easier. Today I’m too tired to tell white lies. I may have a whopper or two in me waiting for the right conditions, if push comes to shove and so forth. These whoppers, if told by a person to get out of a jam, is a form of self-preservation – man’s most primitive mental defense mechanism. These skills are honed when we are young and typically perfected upon puberty. The stakes typically get higher with age. If you tell a whopper (without just being a pathological liar) as an adult, there’s usually a prime motivating factor involved.
“My God, Alfred! You’ve been gone for three days without calling anyone at work? This will not do, Alfred. This will not do at all. I’m afraid we will have to let you go. I’m sorry, but you’re just not a team player. And there’s no ‘I’ in team, is there Alfred? Well, what do you have to say for yourself Alfred?”

“Mister Jarvis. I am so sorry. On Saturday my house caught fire. Burned down to the ground. I was sitting on the couch and there was a candle on the kitchen table and my ferret Pop-pop got too close to the flame and burst into flames and ran under the bed and the bed caught fire and before I know it, there are flames everywhere and smoke. It was like I was in Dante’s inferno.”

“My God, man!”

“I know! I barely got out of there before the house blew up. I was sent sailing six hundred feet into my neighbour’s corn field where I stayed till yesterday. I must have been in some type of mini-coma or something. After I woke up I stumbled back to where my house was still smoking but, essentially there was nothing left but a crater and my exercise bike, which for some reason is still in perfect shape. It’s all I have left. I’d sell it on Kijiji but my computer is gone.”

“This is horrible, Alfred. You go home, take some time off and get your affairs in order. Don’t worry about things here. Your job will be waiting for you. It’s just fortunate that you weren’t hurt.”

“I did pull my groin a little. I think it’s when I lifted a big slab of concrete to rescue Pop-pop. I gave him CPR and he lived. He’s down in the car.”

So, it appears Alfred told a whopper to save his ass from getting fired after spending a few extra days in Vegas letting it ride while getting horribly mangled on the free gin and tonics provided by the casinos. Hey, shit happens, right?


When I was in high school I had a crappy ten speed with no brakes to speak of. One day I gave my pal Dongo a double-ride. While he wobbled behind me on the seat, I stood erect on the pedals and steered. Dongo’s job was to keep his balance on the seat. My job was to manoeuvre. It was a precarious scene. We picked up speed on the hill running adjacent to the church. There was a ninety degree turn awaiting us at the bottom. It was either make the corner or bomb straight through the highway and into the mighty Ottawa River. God must have been watching down over me and Dongo for that split moment because defying all laws of physics and such, I made the turn perfectly. Then God must have become distracted. I simply didn’t see the woman walking on the sidewalk holding two bags of groceries. Well, actually I did see her for a millisecond before I hit her with the bike. Dongo saw her a full three seconds before impact and ejected himself from the back of the bike. It was a horrible scene. Carnage. Later, after she was admitted into the hospital, the cops took a statement from me. With my knees knocking, that primitive self-preservation mechanism kicked in. I lied. I spun a weave of bullshit. I told the cops that my brake cables snapped and I was not double-riding. I knew I was lying to save my ass. The cops knew I was lying to save my ass. The woman being stitched up was more than a little dazed and confused and really had no idea what had happened to her. That scene plays back to me like the grainy JFK assassination footage in Dallas.

Lying (which is subtly different from mere bullshitting) is a human condition, unique to homosapiens. You don’t find eels lying to keep their jobs. You seldom catch a medium-sized sloth lying to get out of jury duty, or a hermit crab making outlandish claims of personal wealth or personal endowment at a martini bar in order to pick up another sexy hermit crab to go home for crazy crab sex. (Two hermit crabs hooking up!! Get it? Get it?)

So, what the hell is the gist of all this you may ask? Well, if I told you there was no point at all to this, well, I would be lying. But one person lying to save his ass is one thing. A group of people in positions of perceived trust and absolute power lying is quite another scene, dig daddio?

So, in no particular order, I humble suggest we be wary of the following:

The 911 Commission The nebulous concept of freedom of speech (it’s quite conditional)The all-encompassing War on Terrorism – which by definition implies it as something to be won

“Hey, Allen, while you were in the hot tub, someone told me the war on terrorism is over.”

“Wow, that’s terrific. Who won?”

“It was a draw I think. I was making pancakes so I didn’t catch it all.”

Let’s throw in the tendency to invade small foreign countries to forcibly save them from tyranny and violence and oppression and debt to global banks through carpet bombing all in the name of democracy. Now, let’s keep trucking, if you’re still here. More things to keep an eye on:

· Democracy

· Blind Patriotism

· Airport security that allows for the mass fondling of genitalia

· The North American Union (one big happy family consisting of Mexico, the United States and Canada sharing one currency)

· Privacy

· Google. Microsoft. Apple.

· Cake Boss, Muffin Masters, Cupcake Wars etc. Mass media dumbing us down through viral videos of sneezing pandas and yawning kittens

· Religion (not personal spirituality, but organized religion - a good shepherd keeps his flock in line)

· OnStar

To suggest that there is even the slightest possibility that things out there may not be exactly as they seem automatically brands you as a conspiratorial zealot – it makes you a rogue sheep. Ask any shepherd what he does with a sheep that refuses to follow. Why do you think he always carry that kick-ass stick. For balance? My Uncle Wallace once told a group of people at a gentleman’s club that he felt that unquestioning loyalty is not an admirable quality on a personal level, but makes a hell of a mighty weapon of mass destruction. That, and poverty. Then someone picked him up in a black van and he has not been seen since. Poor bastard. He owes me like about twenty two birthday presents.

My Uncle Wallace is a Mime - admits Bangus Founder

My Uncle Wallace is a wonderful mime, which is fine, considering he took lessons on his own time and not on my dime. He can mime and dine, and mime while sipping mime wine which is also an art that has to be nurtured over time. Uncle Wallace nails his mimes nine times out of nine. A big part of his success at being a truly convincing mime is his unfortunate inability to speak after having his vocal chords ripped out by an ape who could rhyme on command, on cue and on time. He settled out of court a total of six times, and was subsequently paid his weight in proceeds of crime, which again, suited him just fine. With the money he was able to buy three and a half used winter tires for his Econoline van. The end. That's it. Fin!

Next week - Wiki Leaks and a tonne of bullshit. Plus the 911 Commission Report explained in under ten words. The first word is bullshit. So is the second. And the jury's still out on the third word, but I'm thinking it will be the same as the first two.

I don't apologize for the short column. I do apologize for killing that panda on a dare. Especially since that panda was the last one on the planet. That was still pretty damned funny!